by petunia
my world is sufficiently rocked.
after thirteen years without a word exchanged, mike and i are talking again.
yes, that mike.
and it’s as if the world is turned upside down for me. i’m still me, he’s still him, but we’re the grown-up versions – yet it doesn’t feel like that at all. it’s like a time warp. the things that were not good are better – so much better than i ever imagined they could be for him. he’s like, this amazing grown-up version of the person i used to know, and used to love.
and i don’t know what any of this means.
thirteen fucking years. we were children. so how could there even be anything there now? thirteen years ago i was a black-haired wannabe wild child with an attitude about everything and a fuckload of resentment for things i couldn’t name. i laugh at the me i was then. so why does it feel like coming home to talk to the yin to my yang during those times, when i am not the yang i once thought i was?
i feel drunk, but have not had a drop to drink. eeeeeek.
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for better or worse, i’ve found that i write less when r is around — most of the stories i would type up end up going into her ears. though i guess ‘around’ is a loose term, since she is in boston and i still consider her ‘around’ right now, since she is available to me.
tripp :: feb 02 2009 :: 7:49 pm